Despite the fact that they keep putting out new records, it’s hard to find any original words to discuss the electro-rock legends known as Radiohead. Other than, perhaps, that they might have the most kick-ass use for a 7/8 time signature in musical history (aside from the instrumental in Rush’s "Tom Sawyer"). But I’m sure someone’s already made a similar assessment.
That’s the technical frame, anyway, in which our friends at Wikipedia believe Radiohead vocalist Thom Yorke chose to open "2 + 2 = 5." The unusual, uneven rhythm gives the listener a bit of an off-kilter feeling, as if the sole of one shoe was worn down a quarter inch from the other. There’s an elusive attractiveness in that quality – you can’t dance to it right away, you might have difficulty even following it mentally, but you’re intrigued, engaged, or at least irritated enough to appreciate the subsequent rhythmic shift.
One thing that’s great about this rock song is that you don’t have time to over-analyze what’s happening before getting whisked away to somewhere new. The ‘B section’ is more of a glorified bridge, and I mean that; it’s an incredible couple of transition bars building enormous energy that’s downright mystical. Forget Justin Vernon, Ben Howard, JV McMorrow; Yorke does moody falsetto better than anybody (OK, it may be a toss-up with Prince). Somehow Radiohead manages to sting and massage the eardrums in a matter of bars, going from razor-sharp to velvety-smooth on a dime.
And as the magical bridge foretold, something violent and beautiful erupts in the ‘C section.’ Yorke’s voice flashes maniacally over revved-up power chords like the beam-lights that must’ve caused epileptic seizures in hundreds of people in this audience. It looked pretty cool onscreen, though.
When Yorke and co. abruptly decide at three and a half minutes that there's been enough savage strumming, synth soaring, and vocal vaulting for one song, we’re left hanging, perhaps pondering the group’s control over us. More? Shouldn’t there be some delicious repetition of the ‘C’ and ‘D’ sections? Everything was going fine. Don’t we deserve more?
Good, that means they’re getting in your head, getting a rise out of you. And that’s not to say these guys are terribly high-concept, artistic purity martyrs. The risk-taking and boundary-pushing of Radiohead’s full catalogue…well, no one would know or care about it if they didn’t make just stellar music with memorable elements that appeal to a broad audience. But I love their unusual rhythms, the dramatic shifts: the reminders – both melodically and lyrically – to question norms, to be critical.
This song’s title, a direct reference to the dystopian George Orwell classic "1984," helps convey that sentiment – that the lack of an active conscience helps undo logic, as Orwell's characters discover – but in the context of a brilliant piece of music, I think it also has the effect of implying that logic and rules aren’t always important: At first, the world may not add up to what it’s supposed to, but if you keep listening to the song, that stops mattering and you just enjoy the uneven ride for what it is.
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